Potter in Green
by paltropie
Summary: Note to readers: So. Hope you'll enjoy it. Harry Potter is beginning his education at Hogwarts. How will things turn out now that he's been sorted into Slytherin and Severus Snape is his head of house?
1. Hellos and Goodbyes

Harry couldn't get enough of Diagon Alley. Even after hours of wandering in and out of stores, pushing and shoving his way through the crowds with Hagrid, and admiring the various items in the windows of every shop, Harry still wanted more. He could have gone on staring at the brooms in the window for Merlin knows how long if Hagrid hadn't pulled him away.

Hagrid walked – with those enormous feet of his – further down to a quieter area of the alley. Harry had to jog to catch up. Hagrid stopped in front of a store; Harry finally caught up. He stopped to catch his breath before reading the sign hanging above him: _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.

"Better go on in," Hagrid said as he patted Harry on the back, almost knocking the boy over. "I'll be off, goin' ter pick up some mer' stuff of yers. I'll meet yer back here in a while." Hagrid pushed – more like shoved – Harry into the shop, and he went on his way, whistling a merry tune.

Harry stepped nervously into Madam Malkin's, admiring the robes of all colours and designs hanging all over the store. He caught sight of a boy with startling white blond hair getting fitted for some black robes. The boy was the first wizard his own age that Harry had seen so far, and he wondered if he and the boy could be friends.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Harry jumped, startled. He turned and found himself looking into the eyes of a smiling witch.

"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Madam Malkin. Getting fitted for Hogwarts? Come this way, love." Harry was led to the back of the store, where the blond boy was. Madam Malkin threw a black robe over Harry's head and began taking his measurements. Harry took the chance to steal a glance at the boy and realised the boy was smiling at him.

"Hogwarts too?" the boy asked, "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Draco stuck out his hand and Harry took it shyly. "Harry," he replied.

"So, what house do you think you'll be in?" Draco asked Harry. "I'd like to be in Slytherin, all my family's been there. Ravenclaw seems alright too, I guess. My father would hate it if I got sorted into Gryffindor – the whole house's a bunch of rash idiots. And don't even get me started on Hufflepuff. I'd just get back on the train if I got sorted there."

Harry stared at Draco blankly. He hadn't understood a single word. "Huh? House?"

"Yeah, school house!" Draco exclaimed. "Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff? You've heard of them, haven't you? Wait, you're not one of those Muggle-borns, are you?"

"Actually, no. I have no idea. I've never even heard of Hogwarts until yesterday," Harry answered sheepishly, cheeks burning. "And um, my parents were wizards. They died. Ten years ago. I've been raised by Muggles ever since."

"Huh. So…how'd you get here then? Did a teacher bring you here? Like one of those Mud – ah, Muggle – borns?" Draco demanded, giving Harry an odd look. Draco seemed uncomfortable, much to Harry's confusion.

"Oh. Hagrid brought me. He's the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts. He's been helping me get my supplies. Oh look!" Harry saw Hagrid outside the shop window, holding a cage in his hand. In the cage was a snowy owl.

"There he is," Harry pointed out the window. "And he's bought me an owl!"

Harry waved at Hagrid excitedly.

Draco turned to look at Hagrid outside the window. "Hmm…an owl, huh? I might just ask mother to buy me one."

At that moment, Madam Malkin stood up and looked at Harry. "That's you done, dear," she said.

Harry thanked Madam Malkin and turned back to Draco. "Well, I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts, then," he said with a smile.

"Yes, I guess you will." Draco smiled back.

Harry followed Madam Malkin to the counter to make his payment and joined Hagrid outside.

**…**

Harry was elated. He was finally escaping the Dursleys; even if it was only for the school year, it was still a relief. He'd resolved to leave that house since his ninth birthday, but he'd never managed to do it.

They'd avoided him since he'd come back from Diagon Alley with his school supplies. They were so terrified of him – that he'd regrow that tail onto Dudley, oh, sweet revenge! – that they'd left him alone. Not once in the past month had they even said something about Harry or Hedwig's constant screeching, and although he was glad, Harry found it odd.

With no chores to do and no punishments to face, Harry had shut himself in his room, together with Hedwig – his owl – and devoted himself to reading his school books. After that conversation with Draco, where he'd felt so clueless and embarrassed, Harry was determined to at least understand the basics of his subjects at Hogwarts. He'd even bought other books – _Hogwarts: A History and Quidditch Through the Ages, _among others, just so he wouldn't ever have to feel so clueless again.

All Harry did that month was read, and when the day came to get to Hogwarts, Harry was thoroughly fascinated with the magical world. He'd read about all about Hogwarts, all about his classes and all about Quidditch. Harry had never read so much in his life! He had even learnt the charm to repair his glasses – the was no more need for Sellotape! It was quite simple really – all he needed to do was tap his wand and say _occulus reparo. _

Harry already knew which classes were his favourite. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Flying. The idea of defending himself against creatures and things of evil, of brewing potions that could cure anything and whizzing around on a broom – A broom! Whizzing! - was so delightful he didn't even know he had started grinning.

When he'd reached Kings Cross, the Dursleys didn't even bother saying goodbye. Uncle Vernon hauled his trunk out of the car, got back into the car and drove away. Still grinning, Harry got a trolley for his trunk and for Hedwig's cage and set off to find his train.

**…**

Harry pushed the trolley further into the station, looking around in awe. He'd never really been out of Number 4 Privet Drive before, and he had certainly not been in a train station – much less Kings Cross. Harry swelled with pride and silently thanked his parents for being wizards, even if he knew nothing about them. (Well, nothing more than what Hagrid had told him. And Hagrid hadn't really told him much, other than 'James and Lily were brilliant, they were. Brave and brilliant!')

Wanting to hurry along before the train left him and his brilliant plans for the future behind, Harry reached into the hole-ridden pocket of his (Dudley's, really) tattered jeans, fishing for his train ticket to Hogwarts. Harry was excited and couldn't resist smiling. He was sure he'd enjoy Hogwarts very much! But when he scanned the ticket, his heart skipped a beat. The smile instantly vanished from his face, replaced by a look of horror. Panicked, Harry looked around once more, at the signs above the various platforms. He still had that look on his face – the one that he got every time something odd had happened back at the Dursley's, the look that meant all hope was lost.

_How is this possible?_, Harry thought, re-reading the information on the ticket, frantically searching for a sign that read: Platform 9¾. But the sign didn't _magically_ appear (how ironic!), much to his frustration.

Harry, cursing himself, thought hard. _Argh, there must be a mistake! This can't all be a prank! Where could that damn platform be?_

Harry, not wanting to waste any more time – as the Hogwarts Express was due to leave in just over fifteen minutes – decided that asking around was the best option. So, that's what he proceeded to do. Harry pushed his trolley around the station, asking person after person if they knew where Platform 9¾ was. All he got were a bunch of odd looks as they stared at his oversized clothes or strange belongings on the trolley and answers like 'Are you lost, dear?' or 'Quit messing with me, boy, I haven't got the time!'

Very soon, Harry had begun to lose all hope. His dream of casting brilliant-looking spells, brewing advanced, strange potions and soaring high above everyone on a broomstick seemed like just mere dreams and not, in fact, a reality. Then, as if Luck had had enough of the joke she'd played on Harry, – the Boy Who Lived, mind you – he caught sight of a head bushy hair – a girl, it looked like – running with a trolley, the two figures behind her struggling to match her pace. Harry took hold of his trolley and ran forwards, towards this girl, who he assumed – because of the trunk and similar strange objects on her trolley – was also heading for the same train as he.

"Hurry, Mum, Dad! The train's about to leave!" Harry heard her shout as she came to a stop, waiting for her parents to catch up.

Still running with his trolley, Harry barely stopped himself from barrelling straight into the girl.

"Oh!" she said, pulling her own trolley back reflexively, avoiding a near disaster. "What do you th- oh. You're going to Hogwarts too! But where are your parents? Oh, never mind all that! We have a train to catch, don't we, Mum and Dad!" She turned around and saw her parents stop to catch their breaths.

"Well, I guess we'd better go on first," she said to Harry before running – trolley and all – directly for a barrier. Harry stood there. Jaw agape. Dumbfounded. _Was this girl mad? Maybe I shouldn't follow her after all. I don't even know her name!_ he thought, as the girl – trolley and all, vanished through the barrier. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. He still stood there, dumbfounded. Jaw agape. Only when the girl's parents came up to Harry and asked him to hurry along did he snap out of his reverie, and trusting that the train was on the other side of the barrier and that nothing bad would happen, he closed his eye and ran – trolley and all…

To find himself on the other side.

The other side was magnificent! Even better than he had imagined! The sleek black and red body of the Hogwarts Express, the steam puffing, the gears working. _Magic! This is Magic!_ Harry thought. The train whistled and puffed, clearing Harry's head. He watched as the platform although somewhat still filled with students, depleted and he rushed to the train doors, hurrying inside. (Well, as much as he could hurry with a large, heavy trunk and an owl as his load) Harry barely made it into the carriage before the train puffed and whistled once more, slowly pulling away from the station.

_Phew, that was too close a call! _Harry thought, as he watched the other students stick their limbs and heads and pets out the windows, waving goodbye to their families. For a moment, Harry felt a pang of jealously. _What had he done to not deserve a happy, loving family? One that he could wave and blow kisses at as the train pulled out of the station. What would it be like if his parents were her, right now, waving goodbye to him? _Then, Harry decided it wasn't worth mulling over things that could have been and walked down the carpeted aisle, looking for a place to spend the rest of the journey.

**…**


	2. Off to Hogwarts

Harry stopped at the first compartment he came to and snuck a look inside. _Brothers_, he thought, as three heads of bright red hair met his eyes. Gazing longingly at the laughing, jabbing and whining of the boys in the compartment, Harry wishes he had an older brother or even a sister – someone who could've looked out for him at the Dursley's. Just then, a rat came flying towards the glass, startling him out of his reverie. Harry blinked in surprise and quickly hurried away.

The next few compartments Harry passes weren't for him as well. They were either too crowded, too loud, too lively or too awkward. Harry walked down some more, until he came to an empty compartment near the rear end of the train. Harry slid open the door and shuffled to sit by the window, staring at the greens, browns, blues and greys that flashed by. He rode in relative silence, interrupted only by the occasional student looking for their lost pet and the arrival of the trolley lady (Harry didn't know what to buy so he bought some of everything).

Harry stuffed himself with the sweets and pastries he'd bought from the trolley. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans were his favourite – he kept reaching into the box for more – but he finally got put off when he ate a particularly nasty vomit flavoured bean and chucked the box to one side. Harry loved the chocolate frogs too, but he had a shock when he opened the first packet and the frog leapt up onto his face. But the cards more than made up for that, in Harry's opinion. He was so fascinated with the moving figures of the witches and wizards and the short bio that accompanied them that he didn't notice that the door had opened and someone had come in.

"So," a voice said. At that, Harry jumped and found himself looking into a set of pale grey eyes. A moment later, he registered that it was the boy he'd met at Madam Malkin's, who'd asked him about what house he'd be in, and he flushed. _Draco, _Harry remembered.

Draco continued speaking, as if he hadn't noticed Harry's start. "It's you then, is it? Why didn't you tell me who you were, Potter? Is Draco Malfoy too insignificant for you, Mr Hero-of-the-Wizarding-World?" Draco sneered.

"Uh…well…I um…" Harry stuttered, and felt his cheeks burn even hotter.

Draco smirked at Harry's obvious discomfort and broke the awkwardness. "Well, how about we just forget all that, then, Potter? Friends?" Draco stuck his hand out for Harry to shake.

Harry blinked in surprise. _Friends? Draco wanted to be his friend? _He'd never had a friend before. That boy in Year Three didn't count – he'd done it just to spite Dudley, and in the end, it hadn't worked out. Harry hesitated, then smiled timidly and grabbed the Draco's hand, shaking it harder than was necessary.

Draco smiled back and searched the other boy's face, resting his eyes on Harry's scar. "So Pott-" Here, Harry interrupted with a mumbled "Just Harry."

Draco pretended not to notice and went on as if Harry hadn't spoken. "So, Potter," he emphasised the name. "Know what house you'll be in now? Or do I have to fill you?" Again, the trademark Malfoy smirk appeared.

Harry flushed for the third time in five minutes and straightened his glasses. "Uh, no. I mean, I dunno. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aren't too bad, I suppose…but I don't think I'll get sorted there. Gryffindor's cool, my Mum and Dad were there and it'd be great if I went there too, but I just don't feel like I'm brave enough. So, um, I think I'd much rather be in Slytherin. W-with you. Only…no one thinks I'll be sorted there. They keep saying it's the evil house, that someone like _me_ belongs in Gryffindor. Do you think they'll hate me if I get sorted into Slytherin, Draco?" Harry paused and looked up at Draco with a torn expression.

Draco sighed. He'd heard more than enough prejudice of his soon-to-be house for the past eleven years. "They only say that because they're jealous of the best house at Hogwarts. Not all Death Eaters were Slytherins, Potter. And no, they wouldn't have a reason to hate you. But if they do, they can go stuff themselves."

Harry smiled at Draco, reassured. _But really, he should just stop calling me Potter. I mean, which eleven year old calls people their own age by their surnames? _Harry thought.

**…**

Draco and Harry had the compartment to themselves for the rest of the journey. (Except when two burly blank-faced boys barged in and started staring – Draco introduced them as Vince and Greg and made them leave after that.) Harry didn't talk much – there wasn't much he could share. He just listened to Draco talk about his summer, about Quidditch, about Hogwarts, about magic, about his mother, and Harry asked questions or nodded at the right places. Later, when Harry thought about the conversation, he would notice that Draco avoided talking about his father. But for now, well, Harry was just fine with how things were.

When it started to get dark outside, Draco stood up and reached for Harry's trunk. He took out his wand, uttered _alohomora, _and the lock clicked open before Harry could even say anything. Reaching in, the blonde grabbed Harry's robes and shoved them at Harry, telling him to go get changed. Harry stumbled out and headed for the bathroom.

"Seriously, Potter. What is up with that hair of yours? Don't you ever try to keep it presentable?" Draco ran a hand over his own hair and huffed at Harry when he came back from the bathroom, hair sticking up in every direction.

"And really, you should learn to tie that properly." Draco nodded at Harry's haphazardly tied tie. Harry just shrugged, so Draco sighed and got up to help Harry with his tie.

**…**

Before both boys knew it, the train came to a halt. Draco straightened up and pulled Harry to his feet. "Come on, let's get off this train before we get left behind."

Draco led the way to the exit doors, shoving past the mob of students crowded in the aisle. The boys jumped out onto the platform, right into the path of Hagrid, who stopped just in time.

"OH! Whotcher, Harry! How'd yer find the jer'ney?" Hagrid looked down at Harry, a smile lifting up the corners of his ragged beard.

"Come, yer bet- is that a Malfoy, Harry?" Hagrid's tone became clipped and he narrowed his eyes when he finally caught sight of the blonde beside Harry.

Harry nodded and shrugged up at Hagrid. The Hogwarts Gamekeeper seemed to clear his head then and gestured for them to follow him. Harry and Draco tagged behind Hagrid as he shouted: "Firs' years, firs' years, follow me!"

When they were all gathered together, with the two boys near the front, Hagrid led the group of first years away from the other students and down a separate path. It grew dimmer as the platform drew further away. The only light was that of Hagrid's lamp, which didn't really do much good for many students stumbled on the unseen bumps and holes in the ground. Up ahead, Harry caught sight of a magnificent castle upon a hill, lights twinkling from open windows. Harry nudged Draco and both of them stared at the building before them. Neither Harry nor Draco spoke a word as the chatter around them fell into hushed whispers and then, finally, into silence.

"There yer are, right there, yer firs' sight of Hogwarts!" Hagrid announced as he huddled the group closer and let them admire the sight for a while.

Hagrid led them on, towards a dock, and got them to find a boat. "No more than four ter' a boat!"

Harry and Draco climbed into a boat, followed by the bushy-haired girl that Harry had met before and a chubby-faced boy who was shaking even as he climbed in, a toad in his hand. The four of them sat in awed silence, still looking at Hogwarts Castle.

Once he'd made sure that everyone was accounted for, Hagrid climbed into a boat of his own and waved his pink umbrella. As if by magic, the boats began to glide across the gleaming surface of the lake, closer to the castle that would house them for the next seven years.


	3. Better Be Slytherin!

The boats stopped in a tunnel, bobbing gently by the water's edge. Harry and Draco clambered out first, followed closely by the boy and girl they'd shared with. The sounds of crunching pebbles and excited voices grew louder as more and more first years stepped out of their boats. Harry brushed off his robes just as Hagrid announced: "This way, come on!" and started to climb a flight of stone steps. The group hurriedly followed the light of his burning lamp.

The light stopped moving as Hagrid led them to a platform at the top of the stairs. A hush fell over the crowd as they caught sight of the giant oak doors framed by burning sconces. Hagrid turned to face the fidgeting first years and beamed down at them, then stepped forward and raised his fist. He pounded on the doors and they swung open.

A shadow emerged from the open door and into the light. It was a witch dressed in fine robes of gleaming gold and wearing a crooked scarlet witch's hat. Her face, although lined with age, was stern; and when her eyes swept across the gathered first years, Harry knew that she wasn't one to be crossed. Harry whispered as much to Draco, who looked as if he'd just run into a ghost.

Speaking of ghosts, three pale figures chose that moment to float out the open door, talking amongst themselves. Harry caught snippets of their conversation: "new students…the Boy who Lived…what house…Peeves…" The ghosts didn't seem to notice the group of students gathered before them and kept their floating pace, almost passing straight through a red-haired girl, who shrieked and moved aside.

Finally, the witch seemed to have had enough. She cleared her throat and everyone turned their attention to her, even the ghosts, one of whom said a hurried "Ah, new students, I see. Welcome to Hogwarts! Hope to see you in Gryffindor!" and led the way back inside the castle. Draco scoffed and muttered something about Gryffindors. Harry looked at him quizzically.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall," said the witch. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on the chubby faced boy from the boat. Harry gulped nervously and tried to flatten his hair. Draco unconsciously pulled at his tie.

"I will return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She turned and left the way she had come.

…

Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Draco looked at him and smirked, shaking his head slightly; totally ignorant of how he'd looked when McGonagall had first appeared.

"So, still going for Slytherin?" Draco asked and Harry nodded.

"You know, I don't see why…" Draco trailed off. He tilted his chin, motioning to someone behind Harry. Harry turned and spotted the red-haired boy he'd snuck a peek at earlier on the train walking towards them, a dark-skinned boy beside him.

"Hi," the boy said when he reached Harry and Draco. "I'm Ron Weasley."

Ron held out his hand and smiled at Harry. Harry didn't take it. Instead, he looked to Draco, as if the other boy could do something. Ron's eyes narrowed as he looked from Harry to Draco.

"I wouldn't associate with him if I were you, Potter. He's a Weasley. Worst lot of purebloods I've ever come across. Blood traitors, they are. And he's _Gryffindor_." Draco addressed this to Harry, before glaring at the Weasley.

"What are you here for, Weasley? With those hand-me-down's and incompetent official of a father, I'd bet you're after Potter's fortune. Or are you trying to recruit people to your idiotic Gryffindor cause? Potter won't be swayed that easily, Weasel. So I suggest you leave him alone." This, Draco aimed at Ron. Harry's eyes widened in shock. Even he was surprised that Draco had gone that far. Harry, feeling guilty, bit his lip and smiled at Ron – a gesture that wasn't acknowledged.

Ron's cheeks turned red in rage, his nostrils almost flaring visibly. He clenched his fist, wanting to throw a punch. Then, they heard the sharp click of heels on the stone floor and the boys dropped it, leaving the score-settling for another day. Professor McGonagall had returned.

"Come along now, follow me. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall's gaze settled on Harry, Draco and Ron, and they all looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Quickly, form a line!"

Harry, feeling as though he'd been glued to the floor, dragged his feet forward and got into line behind two Indian girls. _Twins, _he thought. Draco got into line behind him, and Ron and the dark-skinned boy hung back for a while before joining the line. They walked through the front doors, into a sprawling chamber and through another set of double doors – into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined that something as beautiful as this could exist. The Great Hall was lit by thousands of flickering candles that floated above four long tables, where the rest of the school was sitting. The tables were decorated in reds, greens, blues, and yellows; and were lined with set after set of golden plates, goblets, and cutlery. Harry felt countless sets of eyes upon him and glanced upward; he saw a ceiling of twinkling stars upon a sleek black canvas.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Harry heard someone say, and remembered that he'd read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_.

On a raised platform at the top of the hall was another long table where the staff and teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there and placed a four legged stool in front of them. On top of the stool, she placed a very old, very frayed wizard's hat. Harry noticed then that every eye was turned towards the hat; so that's what he did too. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a tear on its brim opened up and it began to sing:

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The whole hall burst into cheers and applause as the hat finished its song and bowed, before falling silent and went still once more, as if it had never moved in the first place. Professor McGonagall held up a hand and every eye in the room flicked to her. She stepped in front of the first years, holding a long roll of parchment in her hand. One by one, the first years were called up to be sorted. One by one, the nervous group slowly dwindled.

Harry wasn't really paying attention. He was more worried about his own Sorting to notice that the girl from the platform – Hermione Granger – had been sorted into Gryffindor and that the chubby-faced boy – Neville Longbottom – had somehow made it to Gryffindor too.

"Draco Malfoy!"

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts then and clapped Draco on the shoulder. Draco nodded back at him and sauntered forward to put the hat on his head. He sat down and the hat fell over his eyes. For almost a whole minute, there was nothing. Everyone seemed to be confused – whispers broke out, and the teachers exchanged glances. Even Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable. But then – "Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table cheered and clapped as Draco stood up and looked back at Harry, a smug smile on his face – but his grey eyes looked anything but smug; if anything, they had a hint of worry and relief in them. "See you soon," Draco mouthed and hurried to join the rest of the Slytherins. Harry noticed that as he approached the table, Vince and Greg had offered him a seat – which he'd turned down – and gone on to carefully choose a spot near the first year girls. Harry supposed he was avoiding the two, for some reason.

Now alone with strangers, – except for Ron Weasley, who kept his steely glare on the back of Harry's head – Harry waited in nervous anticipation for his name to be called. There was a pause and an intake of breath from the witch, then McGonagall called his name, with a certain air of pride about it. Harry hurried to the stool, trying to avoid the eyes of students from all houses who'd stood up to have a better look. Harry glanced up at the staff table and met the stone cold gaze of a black-haired professor. A shiver went down his spine and he shoved the hat on his head, and sat down.

"Hmm, difficult. Very difficult," Harry jumped the slightest when he heard the voice in his ear. "Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Harry's heart thumped hard against his chest and he gripped the edges of the stool.

_Slytherin, _Harry thought. _With Draco._

"Now, now, Harry, are you sure? You'd do well in Gryffindor, just as your parents did. "

_Slytherin. Just put me in Slytherin._

"Well, if you're sure. Gryffindor could really help you, you know. You'd do great things there. But you'd do well in either house, I have to admit. Hmm. I do think you'd thrive in Slytherin... Yes, yes, I think Slytherin would suit you more. The more I think about, the more sure I become. Well, in that case, better be SLYTHERIN!"


	4. The First Year Snakes

Harry removed the hat and found himself in the situation that he'd been dreading. Every jaw in the entire hall dropped (except for Draco's) and every gaze turned into a stare - ones that threatened to pierce right through Harry's skull. Harry ducked his head, trying not to meet anyone's eyes. As he shuffled towards the table decked in green and silver (where Draco was wearing his signature smirk), the hall seemed to finally recover from their shock.

"We've got Potter! We've got Potter!" Harry heard someone cheer from the far end of the table and jerked his head up.

The cheers spread across the entire Slytherin table and every snake – newly sorted first-years to the most respectable seventh-year prefects – whooped and clapped, joining in the celebration. The corners of Harry's mouth turned up into a smile and his face flushed a mild shade of pink at the same time. All the attention was a bit overwhelming – but of course he'd still rather be here than back at the Dursley's.

He caught Draco's eye and the blonde gestured for Harry to take the empty spot beside him. Harry slid into his seat, receiving pats on the shoulder and words of welcome from the other Slytherins; and suddenly remembered the piercing black eyes from before. He risked a glance at the staff table and found the pale, greasy-haired professor glaring fixedly at him. Harry flinched and sunk lower into his seat. If he weren't so sure he had gone slightly mad with the thrills and excitement of the day, he would have said that the set of solid black eyes were digging holes in his mind. Still, Harry couldn't quite brush off the feeling of a burning rage and hatred in those eyes. Harry felt a chill go down his spine and flicked his eyes back down to the sparkling silver plate on the table, oblivious to the boy beside him calling his name.

Harry felt a hand grip his shoulder and he started, discreetly breathing a sigh of relief when he realised that it was only Draco. For a moment, Harry had thought it was the professor. He shuddered again.

"Harry! Are you alright? You didn't seem to hear me call your name."

"Huh? Oh. No. I'm fine. Sorry. I was just…never mind."

"Hmm. Well, good on you, mate! You made it to Slytherin!"

Harry merely grunted, not registering that Draco had finally called him by his first name. "Oh, let me introduce you. We're all somewhat familiar with each other, coming from pure-blood families. But we're not all that close though. That's Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. Alone, they're demons. Together, they're worse than the depths of hell. Not ones I'd associate with. Too clingy and girlish, they are," Draco said, pointing at the three first-year girls, pleased to finally share a truthful opinion of the girls with someone other than the usual.

"And here's Theodore Nott, but he likes it better if you call him Theo. More of a loner, really, though he's not all that bad to talk to. According to Father, his family's a great ally to have. Almost as pure-blooded as the Malfoys, although we're still superior of course. She's Daphne Greengrass. Basically Nott's girlfriend. And that's Tracey Davis. She's a bookworm. Doesn't do much else other than bury her head in a book. And can you believe it? She thinks Quidditch shouldn't exist! How scandalising!"

Draco's grey eyes sparkled, almost glowing silver. He watched as Harry (worrying that he wouldn't fit in – being the newcomer) half-heartedly shook hands with his housemates and exchanged a few words. Then he frowned and scowled in the direction of the Sorting Hat, which a very smug looking Ron Weasley had just pulled off his head. The redhead ran forward into the sea of scarlet and gold, a grin lighting up his face. The applause slowly died away as the second-youngest Weasley slunk into a seat near his twin brothers, rolling his eyes at something they'd said.

"No surprises there. Weasleys. Ugh." Draco muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear.

The last student to be sorted was Blaise Zabini – a very refined looking black boy – who'd been placed into Slytherin, much to Draco's delight. "Cool! Zabini's here too! We were tutored together, you know? And his mother's been married seven times! Can you believe it? All her husbands died somehow or other and they've suspected she's the one behind it all, but they never end up getting her charged," Draco whispered, seeing as the headmaster was standing up and had started speaking.

"… Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you." Dumbledore waved his wand with a flourish, bowed and sat down.

"Uh…Draco? Is he…okay?" Harry asked, quite concerned about the aged wizard's mental state. Draco didn't seem to hear him, for he was absorbed in filling his plate from the platters of piping hot food that had appeared in front of them. Harry gasped, speechless at the sight. He couldn't believe his eyes! Every sort of food he'd ever dreamed of eating was right there, an arm's reach away! Baked potatoes, pumpkin pies, carved turkey, roast beef, sausages and mash, peas and corn. The endless variety was making Harry drool. He stabbed blindly at a piece of meat and was just about to put in straight into his mouth when Pansy Parkinson – the first year with curly brown locks and turquoise eyes spoke up.

"Harry! Please be civilised when you eat! No one's going to snatch that away from you! And to answer your question, yes, Dumbledore's quite mad. Brilliant, but mad. Sometimes Mum wonders whether he should be heading this school, off his wits as he is."

Harry fumbled with his fork and grinned guiltily, trying to control his urge to eat like Dudley did. Harry hastily set the piece of roast beef back onto his plate and cut it into smaller pieces, then stuffed it heartily into his mouth and savoured the juicy, chewy red meat. He'd never tasted something as marvellous as this before, and he was just getting started! Harry's hand flew to other platters, piling food onto his plate. Pansy and Millicent just shot him looks and shook their heads. Theo snickered and nudged Draco, who had to stifle a laugh.

Then Draco seemed to realise the cold black eyes fixed on the Slytherins, in particular Harry, and nudged him. Harry paused in the middle of eating a particularly delicious pie and turned to Draco with widened eyes, as if to say he was already in what passed off as heaven for the wizarding world.

"Oh, come off it, Harry! Looking at how you're eating, someone would say you'd never tasted a pie in your entire life!" Draco drawled, amused. Harry blushed for the fifth time that day, knowing just how true Draco's words were. "Even Professor Snape is staring! Yes, Professor Snape. Your head of house and potions professor is staring at you! Look!"

Harry glanced at the Head table again and gulped. Professor Snape – his name, it seemed – was staring at Harry, lip curled somewhere between disgust and contempt. All the first-years snickered when Harry looked back at them, Draco most of all. Harry could still feel the cold black gaze on him and decided to say something.

"I think he hates me. Professor Snape, I mean."

Blaise laughed. "Don't worry, Harry. Snape does that to everyone. Look! He's doing that to the guy with the purple turban too!" He gestured to Quirrell, whom Harry had already met before in the Leaky Cauldron. He felt a phantom flash of pain in his scar as he thought about their odd meeting and clutched at it.

No one else seemed to notice, to Harry's relief. They would have thought he was crazy, clutching at his scar like that in the middle of dinner for no apparent reason. "And why would he hate you, anyway?" Draco continued, "If he hated anyone, it would've been your father. Mother says they were quite the enemies when they were in school. And you've already shown you're not your father."

Harry shrugged, still not quite reassured, but went back to eating – now at a much slower pace. When he was finished and it seemed like everyone else had too, the food disappeared, only to be replaced by desserts. Harry was wowed beyond words once more. Jelly, treacle tarts, chocolate fudge, cheesecake, apple pie. It was all there! He helped himself to dessert, and at last, when he felt like he could no longer eat, the desserts vanished and Dumbledore got to his feet.

Harry eyed the wizard warily. He was getting tired after all that feasting and all he wanted to do was to retreat to bed. Harry definitely didn't want the headmaster to go rambling about nonsensically now.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the Forbidden Forest is indeed forbidden to all students, and I think a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that students are not permitted to use magic in the corridors between classes. Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "He can't be serious," he muttered and Pansy smirked, giving him an 'I told you so' look.

"And now, before we go, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried. Harry noticed that the staff members' faces were fixed into broad smiles, all except for the Slytherin Head of House, who was frowning deeply. Dumbledore flicked his wand and a golden ribbon that emerged from the tip folded itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

The hall burst into chaos as the entire school bellowed the words. Gryffindor, of course, 'sang' the loudest. Harry grimaced and had to stop himself from covering his ears. Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, Tracey, Theo, Draco and Blaise didn't look bothered by the horrible cacophony. It seemed like only he, along with a few other older Slytherins, didn't enjoy this 'music' in the least.

Everyone finished the song at different times. Eventually, only the Weasley twins were left singing to a slow funeral march. Dumbledore himself conducted the last few lines of the song and was one of the few who clapped the loudest when they finished.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

…

The Slytherin prefects led the rest of the house through the chattering crowds and out of the Great Hall. They walked down the grand marble staircase and down more stairs that led to the dungeons. They turned left and right, walked through passageway after passageway, and came to a stop in front of an ordinary looking wall with a carved stone column in front of it. Harry tried to brand the directions to this place into his mind, but he didn't think it worked. Yet.

"Past this wall is the Slytherin Common Room. The password is _blood purity_. I trust you will not divulge this information to any other house. We also encourage you not to invite a member of any other house, especially not Gryffindor, into our Common Room."

As the prefect spoke the words, the wall slid to the side, opening for the group of students gathered in the dim hallway. The first-years stepped inside eagerly, wanting to catch a glimpse of the Common Room that would be theirs for the rest of their Hogwarts education.

The common room was elliptical and there were windows that looked out upon the lake. The room was lit only by flickering sconces and candles that lined the tables and rough-hewn stone walls, giving off a cosy green light. There were stone steps that led to the main area which was furnished with green armchairs. A fire was crackling steadily under a mantelpiece with the inscription '_Only blood and ambition will aid you on the path to success._' Green and grey beanbags were scattered around the room. Elaborately carved high-back chairs surrounded the tables that were placed wisely in the brightest areas of the room. Bookshelves filled with row upon row of books lined the walls. Two corridors, one on the left and another on the right of the room, branched out from the main area. So far, the first years seemed pleased.

"Dormitories are down those corridors. Boys on the right and girls on the left. "

The first-year boys (other than Vince and Greg) and girls bid each other their good nights and headed off to their corridors. Harry, Draco, Theo and Blaise walked to the end of the corridor and found themselves outside a room marked with a plaque that read: 'First Years'. Harry pushed open the door and the other boys followed him into the dormitory. Harry took in the room around him and nodded to himself, happy with the furnishings and layout.

Six four-poster beds with green and silver curtains were set up, clearing out a circular space in the middle of the room. To one side, there was a bathroom that positively gleamed. Each boy had a chair and desk of his own, and their uniforms and scarves were neatly folded and lay on their beds. At the foot of each bed was a school trunk. Harry hurriedly went to find his for his eyes could no longer stay open. Stifling their yawns, the boys pulled out their pyjamas (Harry's was tattered and old; no surprise there) and climbed into their own beds without bothering to brush their teeth.

"Good night," Harry addressed the room. Draco, Blaise and Theo mumbled their own 'good nights' and fell asleep once their heads hit the pillows. Harry smiled, reminiscing about the day he had had. All in all, it was much better than he had imagined. He lay there and finally, the darkness claimed him. Harry slept soundly all night; he didn't even stir.


	5. The Head of House

At seven o'clock sharp the following morning, Harry woke to the mumblings of dissent and the whining complaints of five of his fellow Slytherins. (At some point in the night, Vince and Greg had found their way in.) Harry rubbed his crusty eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, pitching into the grumbling as well.

Then, from the direction of the door, Harry heard the same silky voice from last night – of the prefect who'd led them to the dungeons. "Come on, you lot! Seven's late enough. There's no time for sleeping in today. We've called a meeting for you first-years before you head off to breakfast. Trust me, you wouldn't want to be late. Professor Snape will be there. Go on, hurry up. Be down in the common room in twenty minutes."

All six boys heard the click of the door as it closed and Vince and Greg were about to head back to their beds to sleep through more of the day when Draco (it seemed he'd finally sobered up) sighed and addressed them. "Well, you heard what he said. We better hurry. I've heard Snape's not one to be kept waiting."

They finally seemed to consent – Vince and Greg grunted, Theo nodded, Blaise rolled his eyes and Harry reached down for his trunk – and soon they had each gotten hold of their uniforms and were grudgingly trudging towards the bathroom.

…

Harry emerged from the bathroom a quick while later, all freshened up and excited for the first official school day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco and Blaise were the next to emerge, discussing the benefits of owls compared to cats. (Draco had somehow managed to convince his mother to buy him a very expensive and rare Eagle Owl that he'd named Regal; Blaise, although he'd not brought a familiar to the castle, had two cats back at Zabini Hall.)

_Hedwig!_ Harry suddenly remembered, only just thinking about the snowy owl he'd been given for his birthday. _How could I forget? Good thing Draco had been talking about owls, or I think I wouldn't have realised! _Harry sheepishly voiced his thoughts aloud while he fumbled around with the green and silver striped Slytherin tie.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry! How could you forget about your owl? Owls just seem to know things, you know. She's probably sulking up there in the owlery, totally disappointed in you," Draco reproached his friend, chucking a pillow at his head. Harry ducked. "And please, you have to learn to tie that thing!"

Draco walked over to Harry and helped him with his tie for the second time in two days. Theo just leant against a bedpost and smirked, quite entertained by the scene before him. Soon, all the others had finished their business in the bathroom and were back in the dormitory.

Blaise looked Harry up and down, eyes gleaming. "I must say, Harry. You'd look quite the hero if your hair weren't so much like an overridden Cleansweep. And those glasses. Ugh. Totally unfit for the Boy Who Lived." Draco and Theo put a hand over their mouths, trying to conceal their laughter. They failed miserably. Harry rolled his eyes and playfully punched the nearest boy – Draco – in the shoulder, before running a hand through his hair, trying to flatten it into obedience. Vince and Greg, well, weren't really paying much attention to them. They were rifling through their trunks, probably for some secret stash of food they'd manage to sneak back into the Slytherin dungeons.

"Oh well, I think we should head out now. Time's almost up." Blaise gestured toward the door. Draco chucked pillows at the two largest boys' heads, attempting to catch their attention.

"Oi! You two."

Harry was the first to the door. The others fell into step behind him and eventually found themselves in the common room, the four first-year Slytherin girls already waiting for them by the fire. In other parts of the room, older students were gathered – some eyeing the newly sorted students, some whispering among themselves, some totally absorbed in whatever activity they were engrossed in. Others had already begun to filter out through the 'wall', headed down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast.

The boys made their way to the armchairs, where the girls were sitting playing a very one-sided game of wizard's chess. Not surprisingly, Daphne was totally uninterested in the game. She'd never really bothered much with chess before, and she certainly wasn't going to now. Tracey, well, was totally absorbed in a book and wasn't about to break her concentration. The white figurines controlled by Millicent were being struck down one after another by Pansy's black chess pieces. Vince, Greg, Blaise, Theo and Draco fell into separate armchairs of their own as an intrigued Harry manoeuvred around to watch the game better.

"Morning Pansy. Morning Millicent. Morning Daphne. Morning Tracey. " No girl replied. One was too busy winning; one was too busy losing; one was too busy being uninterested and the other was too busy reading a book. Unfazed by being ignored, Harry rested his chin on the table, fascinated, his eyes darting from piece to piece. He watched Pansy smile a smile of victory as the white king was cornered.

"Checkmate!" Pansy shouted triumphantly. Millicent's last piece threw its crown down in surrender and toppled off the board, shattering into pieces. The girl scowled and grudgingly admitted defeat, before flicking her wand at the board.

"Reparo!" Harry's eyes widened as the chess pieces re-gathered and the damage was undone. At that moment, the wall slid open to admit their head of house, dressed in his usual attire of billowing black robes. The prefects trailed him into the common room as the first-years all hastily stood up and mumbled their own version of a greeting. The potions professor stopped before the ten students and leaned against the stone mantelpiece. The same prefect from their previous encounters stepped forward and gestured for them to sit.

"Morning, firsties. I believe we didn't manage to have a proper introduction last night, seeing as you were all so tired. I hope you've had a good first night in Slytherin. My name is Nicolas Grimmett, one of your sixth-year prefects. If you have any troubles, feel free to come to me or one of the other prefects," Nicolas indicated the students behind him. A girl with soft red locks introduced herself as Jemma Farley, a fifth-year. Mervyn Wynch – a bespectacled boy, was also a fifth-year and incidentally, Jemma's boyfriend. Alice Meakin was a seventh-year prefect, along with Simon Dedworth, who was Head Boy. Leanne Farley – Jemma's sister, was the other half of Slytherin's sixth-year prefects.

Done with the introductions, Professor Snape stepped out of the shadows. Pansy, Daphne and Theo blinked, as if they hadn't noticed the man standing there, surveying them. He motioned for the fifth- and seventh-year prefects to leave, before addressing the students in barely more than a whisper. Somehow, he still managed to capture the full attention of each first-year. His gaze flicked over each of them, lingering for longer than necessary on Harry. Harry felt the eyes on him and his own unconsciously drifted towards the _oh-so-interesting_ patterned rug.

"You are now all members of Slytherin house – the house of ambition and cunning; and although no one from any other house will say it, the best house at Hogwarts. Slytherin is a place of pride and power, of unity and strength. Also, we are not Gryffindors. We go about making good decisions and having good reasons for the things we do. It would do you well to remember that. Our house has produced outstanding witches and wizards, and you too have the potential to wield that power, if only you choose to cultivate it. For obvious reasons, unfortunately, Slytherin house has a tainted reputation. Others fear us, and so, if we ever give them the chance, we will be the first to be suspected and the first to be blamed. No doubt, in the next seven years of your education, you will all be targets of prejudice from other houses and other professors – even the headmaster himself."

Professor Snape paced back and forth as he spoke. (After all, he was known as the Professor Who Never Stood Still.) "So let me say this now: outside of these dungeon walls, you will stand as one. You will look out for one another. You will defend or assist your housemate no matter the circumstance. You will not attempt to undermine a fellow Slytherin in front of a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, and especially not a Gryffindor. You will not allow them the opportunity to crack our foundations. I cannot stress this enough. If there is problem within this house, it stays within these walls. In no way will you let it out into the corridors. If I find out of any such situation, you will answer to me. And believe me when I say this, the consequences will be dire. Do you understand me?"

All the first-years gulped and rapidly nodded their understanding, definitely not wanting to face the consequences – no matter what they might be.

"Good," the professor continued. "Now, are there any questions?"

All of them shook their heads. All except for Harry, who hesitated for a second, then raised his hand. Clearly not expecting any questions, the professor arched an eyebrow and fixed the brunt of his gaze on Harry, sneering.

"Yes, Mr _Potter_? _You _have a question that _I _can answer?"

Harry stuttered in nervousness. "Y-yes sir. Um…what's wrong with Gryffindor?" All his housemates turned to stare at him, as if wondering if he was mad to ask such a question to the Slytherin head of house. He thought his question was a valid one. Harry didn't understand the whole 'we hate you because you're in Gryffindor' and 'no good wizard ever emerged from Slytherin'. _Really, what was the point? _Harry had been the victim of prejudice for ten whole years, and he knew for a fact that it wasn't a very nice feeling.

"I-I mean…why is it that Slytherin hates them so much? You were talking about preju…" he trailed off when he caught the look on Snape's face.

Snape curled his lip in disgust. "What? Is Slytherin not _good enough_ for young Harry Potter?" Already wanting to fill the halls with your _fame_, do you? Trying to recruit _Gryffindors_ to your little _fan club_, are you?"

The Slytherins reeled back in shock. They'd been told the professor always looked out for his snakes and never treated them unfairly; so nothing could explain this behaviour towards one of their own – especially towards Harry Potter. Harry was deeply insulted and hurt by his head of house's acidic comments, though he didn't show it. He flinched inwardly, wondering what he had done to make his head of house hate him so much. He'd never ever met the man, for Merlin's sake! Harry bit his lip and decided not to antagonise the man further. Instead he hung his head and fiddled with his sleeves.

"Very well, since Mr _Potter_ has no intention of answering my questions, I suggest you all head down to the Great Hall for breakfast immediately. Grimmett. Farley. See to it."

"Yes, sir." The two sixth-years stood even straighter in their ramrod position, if it were even possible. All the remaining Slytherins watched in silence as the professor swept away, robes billowing splendidly around him.


	6. Not So Bad After All

The ten first-years, led by the pair of sixth-year prefects, were talking amongst themselves on the way up the staircase. Vince and Greg were trading ideas on what food they thought would be served. Pansy and Millicent were giggling at something. Theo, Daphne and Blaise were commenting on the portraits they passed. Tracey was lagging behind, silent. Harry and Draco were at the front of the group, conversing in hushed tones about the incident with their head of house in the common room.

"See what I mean? He hates me!"

"Yes, Harry. I think we all saw that. But why, though?"

Harry was just about to comment when he realised they were walking through the doors of the Great Hall. Seeing the incoming group of Slytherins, every Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw dropped their breakfast and stopped their conversations to stare at them. Once again finding himself the centre of attention, Harry felt his cheeks heat. A second later, the whispers started.

"He can't turn out good – "

"The hat must've made a mistake!"

"Slimy snake…"

"I've always known there's something wrong with him. Defeating You-Know-Who like that…just not possible for a normal baby."

"Looks so much like his Dad…he'd be disappointed, I guess…"

Harry felt a bubble of anger rise up in his chest. He really hated it all. He hated being judged by the rest of the school just because he was a Slytherin. He hated being the Boy Who Lived – something he hadn't even known about until just about a month ago, much less remembered! It just wasn't fair. Harry wished they'd all just stop staring; that they'd all just stop whispering. He just wanted to be Harry, the Slytherin; not Harry Potter, Boy-Hero destined for Gryffindor.

Harry had had enough. _This has to stop now. I can't survive seven years of this madness. _Steeling himself, he looked up and shot all the offending students a look that could have withered all the flowers in the Dursley's yard. They all shrunk under Harry's glare and went back to their food, though still whispering.

When they reached the Slytherin table, the older students gave Harry encouraging smiles and approving nods. Harry acknowledged them with a nod of his own and slid into his seat, pulling Draco down beside him. Harry sat in silence for a while, oblivious to the hands of his fellow first-years darting out for the plates of food before him. Draco looked over to the other boy in concern and was about to say something, but thought better of it. Draco understood how Harry felt (or so he thought). He'd bore the brunt of whispers for years – being the son of Lucius Malfoy – and there hadn't been a time when he wasn't bothered by it. Sighing inwardly (for Malfoys never sighed), Draco reached out for the silver serving spoon and heaped a pile of still-steaming scrambled eggs and a couple of sausages onto Harry's plate, followed by a buttered bread roll and some slices of fruit. Draco nudged his friend.

"Harry, eat."

Finally, Harry seemed to realise where he was and jerked himself out of the place he'd wandered to. The smell of the perfectly cooked breakfast on his plate wafted deliciously to his nose and his stomach, emptied of the food from the night before, began to rumble. He hurriedly grabbed the fork off the table and began to shove the eggs in his mouth, lest he be denied his breakfast. He didn't think he could take it if his (for once) decent breakfast was taken away.

Draco's eyes widened. "Hey! Harry. Calm down. No one's going to take that food off you. Not even Vince and Greg – they're preoccupied enough as it is," he said around a mouthful of bacon, looking at the two big-sized boys piling their own plates with food.

"Oh. Right." Harry replied, now actually chewing before swallows. This confused Draco even further, but he said nothing of it. Just then, a fleet of hooting owls streamed into the Great Hall, carrying packages and envelopes of various shapes and sizes. Harry looked up in awe and when he turned towards Draco, about to comment on the magnificence of it all, he unexpectedly found himself looking into the large brown eyes of a neatly-groomed owl.

Recovering from his second of surprise, Harry picked up a small piece of bacon and offered it to the bird, who ruffled its feathers and nipped at the meat gratefully. The owl, finished, allowed Harry to stoke his feathers, then hooted at Draco and took flight. Only then did Harry turn his attention back to his blonde friend, and upon seeing him reading off a piece of parchment, Harry leaned closer.

…

**_Dearest Draco, _**

**_Congratulations on securing your place in Slytherin. Your father and I are most proud, although of course, we expected nothing less from you. News is that Harry Potter was also sorted into Slytherin. I believe you have made his acquaintance? As long as you are on your best behaviour and achieve good grades, you will have no problems this year. You father and I have no doubt that you will do Slytherin proud. We look forward to seeing you back in the Manor at Christmas. _**

**_Best of luck, dear son. _**

**_With love, _**

**_Mother_**

…

A cough behind both boys startled them. Both boys were so engrossed in the letter that they hadn't noticed the presence of the professor. Harry stiffened when he recognised the drawling voice of his head of house and grudgingly turned to look him in the eye.

"Potter! Daydreaming already? I feel I should let you know that I do not accept daydreamers in my class, for I do not want to take points away from my own house."

Snape thrust a timetable at Harry, scowling. Wordlessly, the professor handed Draco his timetable and moved down the table to rid himself of the stack of timetables still in his hands. Harry sighed. _Why is it that Snape can be civil with everyone but me? _Harry didn't think he would enjoy Potions as much as he thought.

Draco, sensing Harry's frustration, spoke. "We have double Transfiguration first up. Ugh. With the Gryffindors. At least the rest of the day isn't so bad. Defense with the Ravenclaws and History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs."

Harry was grateful for the distraction. "As long as it's magic," he mumbled.

"Well, come on then. We'd better head off. Don't want McGonagall to take points off us on the first day. Merlin knows how much she dislikes Slytherins." Draco stood up and tapped Nicholas Grimmett on the shoulder, who was in the middle of a conversation with another Slytherin – probably also in his sixth-year.

Nicholas said a goodbye to his friend and motioned for the first-years to follow him. They grouped together and left the Great Hall, heading up the marble staircase to the Transfiguration classroom.

…

It was the last day of classes before the weekend and Harry had finally familiarised himself with Hogwarts, thanks to the guidance of the sixth-year prefects. So far, Harry had counted fifty-four staircases – narrow wooden ones, wide marble ones, ones with vanishing steps, and ones that led you right where you hadn't wanted to go – and most of them moved; but he was sure there were still quite a lot more that he hadn't found.

Unfortunately, the whispers still hadn't stopped. The portraits pointed every time he walked past and the ghosts would exclaim every time he came within a metre of them, with the exception of Peeves. But, to be honest, Peeves wasn't exactly a ghost, so maybe that didn't count. Luckily for the young Slytherins, Peeves was afraid of the Bloody Baron – their house ghost – and didn't bother them as much. But, if you were an unsuspecting student from one of the other houses, you could at the least expect to be pelted by water bombs if you ever crossed paths with the poltergeist.

Argus Filch – the caretaker – was one person they learned to avoid. Nicholas and Leanne had told them on their very first day that about the nasty old Squib who was out to get as many students as possible. Even worse was his cat – Mrs Norris – who seemed to know where trouble lurked at all times and would fetch Filch in the blink of an eye. There wasn't a student in the school who didn't hate the trouble-fighting pair.

After only a day, Harry had found out that there was so much more to magic than merely waving a wand and uttering a few words. He'd also already formed an opinion on what classes he liked and which ones he would rather not attend ever again. Transfiguration wasn't too bad, aside from the fact that Weasley (as he and Draco now took to calling the redhead) had been shooting looks at him the entire lesson and looking smug whenever Professor McGonagall awarded Gryffindor a point. Draco was right. It was obvious that the Transfigurations mistress didn't think very highly of the Slytherins, for she kept glancing over at the green and silver side of the classroom every now and again and breaking into a frown.

The entire first-year cohort had been called up to the Astronomy Tower one midnight to examine the night sky through their telescopes and learn the names of various planets and constellations. The Astronomy teacher – Professor Sinistra, was essentially a night owl, and Harry instantly took a liking to her because she treated her students all the same. Herbology was fairly interesting, but the only downside once again was the Gryffindors, and especially that Hermione Granger, who simply seemed to know every single thing, much to the boys' irritation. But Harry had noticed that Neville Longbottom – that chubby boy with the toad – was really quite good at the subject, no matter how bad he was at other things. He was a Gryffindor though, so Harry didn't approach him.

"Filthy, know-it-all Mudbloods." Draco had muttered after Herbology. Harry hadn't known what it meant, but he resolved to find out. Somehow.

Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw house, taught Charms. He was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk. In their first lesson with the Ravenclaws, Flitwick had squeaked and fallen off the stack when he came to Harry's name on the register, much to the amusement of his fellow Slytherins. Aside from that incident, Harry quite enjoyed Charms – he'd levitated his feather on his first go and earned five points for his house.

The worst class of all was History of Magic. In Harry's opinion, it was a complete waste of time. Professor Binns, who taught the subject, wasn't even alive, for Merlin's sake! Harry wondered how a ghost had got the position. Harry gave up on taking notes five minutes into the lesson, and by the time it ended, not a single eye was open.

Defense Against the Dark Arts – a subject Harry thought would be most fascinating – turned out to be nothing more than a joke. The classroom smelt strangely of garlic and Professor Quirrell couldn't utter a full sentence without stuttering. Strangest of all, whenever Quirrell caught Harry's eye, his scar would flash with pain and he had to clench his teeth to stop himself from crying out. Draco was concerned, but Harry assured him it was nothing.

After four days of lessons and the nights spent in the Slytherin Dungeon, Harry had made his first real friends. Draco, of course, was his best mate. After all, he was the first wizard his own age that Harry had talked to. Harry quite liked Blaise too – the Italian had many interesting tales to tell and there was no doubt that he was smart. Theo didn't talk much, but Harry got the feeling that the tall, scrawny boy considered him a friend. Daphne had warmed up to him after Harry and Draco had saved her from the wrath of Filch (she'd taken a wrong turn and found herself at the forbidden third-floor corridor) by striking a deal with Peeves that had delayed the elderly Squib for a precious few minutes – just enough time for the heroes to whisk the distressed damsel away. As for the other first-years, well, they remained fairly neutral to Harry; saying 'hello' when the situation warranted it, defending their fellow Slytherin from Weasley's pathetic insults and helping Harry out with homework whenever he needed it. The older Slytherins had also come to accept Harry as a housemate. They left him to his own circle and acknowledged him if they ever crossed paths. Harry also counted the sixth-year prefects Nicholas and Leanne as friends of sorts, for they'd helped him adjust to Hogwarts life and looked out for him like older siblings would (he assumed).

Harry was also very relieved that he wasn't lagging behind in his classes (thanks to the witches and wizards from Muggle families who knew nothing of their magical heritage, essentially just like him). Even his housemates, although pure of blood and raised in the magical world, weren't miles ahead of him. There was just so many things to learn that no one could possibly know them all. (Well, except maybe for Granger, who was really starting to get on his nerves). Harry was quite happy when he'd found out that the arrogant Weasley didn't fair that well either, which led to another one of Draco's 'no surprises there'.

It was a Friday morning and the air in Hogwarts Castle was one of restlessness and excited anticipation of the weekend. No one seemed to really be paying much attention to their breakfasts; most students were chatting relentlessly about their weekend plans, about Quidditch tryouts and the classes they'd had so far. Harry wasn't eating either – but not because he was listening to Draco's rambling about the Tutshill Tornadoes (the Quidditch team he wholeheartedly supported) nor because he was planning for his free weekend hours. No – Harry wasn't eating because he'd been dreading this day since he'd properly examined his timetable – he would be having double Potions today, and as if two hours with Snape wasn't enough, they were having the lesson with the Gryffindors. Harry scowled and pushed his eggs in circles on his plate.

"…so, do you think Tutshill will win this season?"

"Huh? Tuts- wait, what?" Draco's question had caught Harry off guard.

Draco shook his head in mild annoyance. "Really, Harry? Weren't you listening to anything I said?"

Harry blushed and kept silent. Draco took that as a yes. "So, Potter, what's got you so wrapped up?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, not wanting the blonde to know he was so worried about Potions and Snape.

Draco didn't buy it. He had a suspicion of what the other boy was thinking about. "It's Snape, isn't it?"

Harry paused in the midst of playing with his food and met Draco's eyes. "How'd you know?"

"I'm smarter than you give me credit for, Potter." Draco glanced toward the staff table and saw Snape's eyes narrowed on the Gryffindor table. Draco smirked, knowing just how to assure his friend. "You know, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Snape can't hate anyone more than the Gryffindors."

…

Half an hour later, the Slytherins found themselves at the corridor outside the Potions classroom. They filed in as a group and headed towards the tables on the left – Harry and Draco picked a table at the back of the classroom; Theo and Daphne took their seats at the table right in front of them; Tracey and Blaise chose the middle table; Pansy and Millicent settled for the table second-to-front, and Vince and Greg were left with the unlucky table right in front of the professor's desk. They reached into their bags for parchment, ink and quill; wanting to be prepared for the lesson.

The Slytherins shuddered involuntarily as they sat alone in the classroom waiting for Snape. Although they were used to the chills of the dungeons, the Potions classroom was much colder than their common room. The room itself was quite creepy as well – lamps flickered eerily along the walls and shelves were lined with disgusting looking things floating in glass jars.

The Gryffindors, with the exception of Granger and Longbottom – who took the table at the front of their side of the classroom – barely made it to the classroom before Snape did. Harry jumped in his seat when the door slammed shut behind him, as did many of the other students. Snape brushed down the aisle in his billowing black robes and stood in front of the class. He reached for a parchment on his desk and started to take the register. When he reached Harry's name, the greasy-haired professor paused.

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_."

Hearing Weasley snicker behind his hand, Harry glared at him. Snape finished taking the register and looked up at the class. He set down the list of names and began to pace, speaking in the same almost-whispering tone.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." Harry scribbled down Snape's little speech on his parchment. "As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron and its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" Snape stopped pacing beside Harry's desk, studying the parchment. Feeling the black tunnel-like eyes on him, Harry stilled and nervously looked up at his professor; sure that something bad was to come. Alas, he was surprised to find the professor blink and resume his pacing. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

He stopped and turned to look at Harry. Harry thought that the professor's cold black gaze had softened slightly. But he knew it made no sense. _It's just a trick of the light._

"Tell me, Mr Potter. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Granger's hand was waving in the air but Snape paid it no mind.

Harry was puzzled. Snape had called him Mr Potter and hadn't spat his name like he'd had on past encounters. Harry probably wouldn't have realised everyone was staring at him if Draco hadn't kicked him under the table. Draco raised his eyebrows and Harry smiled at him. Harry knew the answer. He'd read about it just the night before, thanks to Draco – who'd said they needed to be prepared. Well, at least that bit of reading had paid off.

"It's the Draught of Living Death, sir." Granger reluctantly put down her hand. "Whoever drinks it will go into a very, very long sleep – almost similar to a deathlike state."

"Very good, Mr Potter. At least we have one student who knows fame isn't everything. Five points to Slytherin."

Harry grinned, pleased. The lesson wasn't going as badly as he'd thought.

"Weasley! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Again, Granger's hand shot up.

Weasley's eyes widened. Obviously, he didn't know the answer. Harry and Draco looked at each other and smirked.

"I don't know, sir," Weasley said.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before you came here, eh, Weasley? For your information, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most potions. Let's try again. What is the difference between monkhood and wolfsbane?"

Again, Weasley didn't know the answer. Again, Granger's hand shot up into the air. Again, Snape ignored her; he kept on firing questions at the redhead. The entire Slytherin side of the classroom sniggered as they watched Weasley grow more and more uncomfortable. Finally, Snape stopped. Weasley had turned almost as red as his own hair.

"Hopefully, Weasley," Snape sneered. "You will learn to be prepared for your lessons. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Scowling, Weasley glared at the Slytherins, who all smirked at him. Snape walked to the blackboard and wrote down a recipe for a simple potion to cure boils. He set them to mixing in pairs and swept around the room, criticising every single Gryffindor. Snape made his way to Harry's table. Harry stilled. Now he was sure, even with Draco there, Snape would find something to criticise him on. But in fact, Snape did just the opposite. He complimented them on the way they'd stewed their horned slugs and the perfect consistency of their potion. Harry looked at Draco and smiled.

The lesson passed fairly quickly, without Snape ever picking on him or any of the Slytherins. Sadly, there weren't any mishaps on the Gryffindor side. Harry was really quite looking forward to seeing Weasley mess up. Soon, Harry found himself leaving the potions classroom, set back by only a foot-long essay on the uses of horned slugs in various potions.

_Well, _Harry thought. _That wasn't so bad after all. _

He smiled and climbed the stairs with the other Slytherins, heading to the Great Hall for lunch.


	7. Even More Questions

**Thanks for your patience :) I really appreciate your sticking with me so far and really hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Thanks for all the reviews that you wonderful readers have left. It really means a lot. **

It was Saturday. The castle was brimming with the excitement of the weekend and, unsurprisingly, the Great Hall was abuzz with chatter. It was the first day without any classes since the students had arrived at Hogwarts on September 1st, and the Slytherin first-years, especially Draco Malfoy, were in a good mood.

"We survived the first week, Harry!" Draco said around a mouthful of toast, his silver eyes twinkling.

Harry smiled and nodded, unable to speak as he'd just stuffed a forkful of pancake and maple syrup into his mouth.

"Theo! Time flies, doesn't it! I can't believe we've already been here a week." Draco addressed the boy sitting across from him.

Theo looked up from the book he was reading – a rather thick one, at that – and replied with a "mhm", before drifting back to the words on the open page.

Draco shook his head in disbelief and turned to Harry, mouthing "Is he serious? It's the weekend!" Harry grinned and dug into his pancakes again.

A moment later, all but the occasional head in the Great Hall turned in the direction of the increasingly loud hooting which signalled the arrival of mail. Although Harry had seen the routine for a whole week, the sight still thoroughly enthralled him. He watched as a rather large owl with golden feathers landed regally at their table and dropped a rolled up newspaper on Theo's book, and took flight again. The Slytherin blinked in surprise, before realising he had received a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ – the wizarding newspaper – which he'd subscribed to a few days before. He rolled it out and set it beside his book, wanting to finish the chapter he'd been reading.

"Hey Theo, can I see that?" Harry abandoned his pancakes for the moment and motioned at the newspaper. The headline had caught his eye, not to mention the moving pictures. Theo nodded absently and pushed the paper across the table. Harry picked the weekend version of _The_ _Prophet_ up and scanned the first page. His eyes widened the further down he read.

Seeing his friend's reaction, Draco leaned in, and peering over at the headline, his curiosity was aroused.

_Gringott's Break-in Latest, _the article read. _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

_A break-in? At Gringott's? But father said it's the safest of places! _Draco thought, remembering Lucius Malfoy telling him on more than one occasion that he would trust the wizarding bank with any of his possessions. (Except the ones still back at the Manor, of course.) Draco looked over at Harry, who was biting his lip, as if he knew something about the incident that Draco didn't know about. It annoyed Draco – for Malfoy's made it a point to know everything about anything – so, imitating the tone he'd heard his father use on his 'associates', asked the question that he thought would abate his curiosity.

"Do you know something about this, Harry?"

His tone didn't seem to faze the raven haired boy, seeing as Harry had been on the receiving end of that tone for eleven years. Harry seemed to consider for a moment, then his green eyes lit up and he spoke. "Yeah, that was the day I first met you, remember? Hagrid and me were at Gringott's that day and he took something out of a vault. He said it was 'secret Hogwarts business'. I think that's what whoever broke in was trying to steal!"

Draco had been on the edge of his seat the entire time, listening to every word. How ironic, instead of abating his curiosity, he'd now become even more curious! His toast was forgotten; all he wanted was to know what had been in that vault. _It must have been important_. _Why else would someone try to steal it? _Draco wondered. He couldn't see any harm in trying to find out – and, if it came to it, they could always turn away then. Then a thought came to him, and he voiced it. "Say, Harry. Why don't we go visit this…Hagrid? Maybe we'll find something out. After all, he must know something about it."

Harry grinned. That was exactly what he'd been thinking. And, he happened to know exactly where the big man lived – credit once again to _Hogwarts, A History._ "Well, come on then, let's go!"

…

The door was opened before the two boys even got the chance to knock. Leaning against the precariously wobbling doorframe, Hagrid beamed down at Harry behind his straggly beard.

"Hullo, Harry! Hogwarts treatin yer al'righ?" Harry would've answered – except he'd been pulled into a bone crushing hug and he was having quite a bit of trouble breathing, let alone talking. Only when Harry wheezed and tried to squirm out of the embrace did Hagrid come to his senses, only to have his attention focused on the very one-sided wrestling match going on at his front steps.

It seemed that Draco had gotten himself into a little trouble of his own. Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, had pounced upon the blonde when he reached the front steps and was currently drooling all over Draco's fairly new school robes. Draco was trying to push the four legged creature away, but his efforts were going to waste.

"Fang! Com'ere! Leave 'im alone!" Hagrid barked, though his tone had a touch of amusement in it. Fang barked and licked Draco again, before reluctantly letting go and heading back towards the hut. Hagrid stepped aside and held the door open, motioning the boys in. Harry stepped in, clutching his side from laughter. Draco stumbled in, muttering darkly and trying to smooth out his robes and hair. (But he'd actually quite enjoyed that, though he wouldn't ever admit it.)

Hagrid closed the door and steered them towards the table, where the two boys plonked themselves on the chairs way too high for them – their feet weren't even touching the floor. The two boys looked around the room. It wasn't much, but it was cosy. There was a fire raging in the fireplace; hams and pheasants hung haphazardly from the ceiling and in the corner was a large bed with a thick patchwork quilt over it. As Hagrid busied himself with a teapot on the hearth, Fang again bounded over to Draco and nuzzled him. Draco gave in and petted the enormous dog behind the ears, drawing a chuckle from Hagrid, who'd placed a plate of rock cakes on the table.

"This is Draco," Harry told Hagrid, who was reaching over for the teapot. Hagrid nodded and looked Draco up and down.

"So, yer a Malfoy, eh? Never thought I'd 'ave one in me house." Hagrid shook his head and chuckled. "An' Fang seems ter really like yer. Never seen 'im like that fer some time."

Hagrid set out three bowl-sized cups and started to pour out tea for them, which the boys quite enjoyed – it had just the right amount of sugar. Harry made the mistake of biting into a rock cake and he heard his teeth crack, but not wanting to offend Hagrid, he pretended to enjoy it. Harry did most of the talking; telling Hagrid about their first week of school. Hagrid frowned when Harry mentioned Filch and Mrs Norris, and he muttered something that sounded like "I'll set Fang loose on that cat someday". But Hagrid spoke a little louder than he'd meant to, for both boys heard and laughed. Harry told Hagrid about Snape – how Snape had gone from hating him to whatever it was now. He talked about Slytherin, about Theo and Blaise, and Draco interjected with comments of his own. There was a silence when Harry finished, then Hagrid said what he'd wanted to say since Harry's sorting.

"Honestly, Harry, I din' think you'd go anywhere other 'an Gryffindor. But yer seem happy in Slytherin, and yer seem ter 'ave made some fine friends," Hagrid smiled at Draco, who puffed out his chest at the compliment. "So Slytherin can't 'ave been too bad, eh?"

Harry nodded and slung an arm around Draco. "I don't think I'd have been happier anywhere else, Hagrid."

"S'long as yer happy, Harry. Merlin knows what those You-Know-Who and blasted Muggles did to rob you of the happiness you so rightly deserved," Harry's expression changed to one of gloom and something so much like hate flashed in his green eyes as Draco shifted uncomfortably, not just due to the mention of Voldemort. The Malfoy heir had cogs turning in his mind – he hadn't failed to notice Hagrid's use of 'those blasted Muggles' and the dark look that crossed the man's face. Draco, who hadn't heard much about Harry's life at home, resolved to ask his fellow Slytherin about it sometime later.

"Still, just watch out fer yerself down in those dungeons." Draco narrowed his eyes at the implication the statement carried. Draco Malfoy, after all was a Slytherin through and through, and no one with a sense of self-preservation would offend the name of Salazar Slytherin. Harry didn't seem to think much of it, though, because he agreed and turned to Draco with a pointed look. Draco nodded. It was time to ask what they'd come here for.

"Um…Hagrid, we um…just wanted to ask you something. We saw the article in the paper about the Gringott's break-in and you know how we were at Diagon Alley that day?" Harry nervously met Hagrid's eye, who was looking increasingly flustered. "Did it have…you know… anything to do with you took out of that vault?" The big man's eyes widened.

"No. It's got nothin' ter do with that," Hagrid denied a bit too quickly, not meeting their eyes. "Why would yer think that?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. He certainly wasn't about to believe that. It really was a lousy attempt at lying. _Hagrid could never be a Slytherin if he tried. _He looked at Harry and was relieved to see that from the dubious look the other boy threw at Hagrid, Harry hadn't believed it either. Still avoiding eye contact, Hagrid stared down into his tea cup, and the two Slytherins were left to their own thoughts. After a moment of silence, Draco offered them all a reprieve from the awkwardness that was starting to fill the confined wooden space.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Hagrid." Draco actually meant it for once – unlike all the other times he'd been made to say it during his parents' social events. "But we should probably head back to the dungeons. Blaise mentioned a game of Exploding Snap."

Hagrid grunted and showed them out. "Bye Hagrid. We'll see you soon." Harry waved back at Hagrid, smiling as Fang barked his own goodbye.

Although the walk back up to the castle was fairly silent, the two first years were burning with curiosity. _What exactly was in that vault that could be so valuable? Why had Hagrid gone to collect the package? _Harry and Draco both knew that Hagrid was hiding something – and that something had to do with the break-in. Just how it all tied in, they didn't know. But they were going to find out.


End file.
